June 2025. Manchester.
Driving Matt home from Luton Airport yesterday I asked him to guess how many pubs I’d managed on my two (2) days in Manchester.
“A dozen ?” says Matt, who obviously reads this blog.
“None“.
Yes, a couple of cultural days, and a £34.99 Travelodge next to the AO Arena, itself rather overlooked since the Co-op venue started attracting the Springsteens and Lionel Ritchies with its superior sound and £5 meal deals.
A bit of slow tourism, time to explore the NOVA quarter above Victoria,
an area of never-ending construction, canals, and food courts.
Our Travelodge is only 5 minutes from the Cathedral, 10 from the Hare & Hounds, 2 from the warren of scruffy streets behind Strangeways Prison and the Holt Brewery in Cheetham Hill.
Talking of Mancunian family breweries, the Dutton Hotel (RIP) was once a basic classic. To lose the Dutton AND the Jolly Angler seems unfortunate, to say the least.
I’d promised Mrs RM an early tea a minute’s walk away.
Wust Al Balad didn’t necessarily look a good idea, but you should always ignore the barbed wire when choosing your tea.
Ah, this looks more welcoming.
“Have you read the reviews” asks a wife remembering a recent experience in Georgia.
105 reviews, nearly all 5*. And a scannable menu.
“Do you want the full experience ?” asks our cheery host, pointing at the trad seating.
Look, I’ll eat and drink anything, but as in pubs I like a solid seat.
Chicken and lamb mandi on a mountain of rice was the first thing on the menu,
and perhaps we should have been more adventurous, but the closer I get to middle age the more I just say “Yes” to every question, even if I’ve no idea what I’m saying yes to.
So I’ve no real idea what was in these cups, but it tasted like stewed apples in custard.
It all cost less than £30. You won’t get a starter in This & That these days. As we wobbled out a couple asked us, suspiciously, if it was really a restaurant, and then headed in. Try stuff, folks,
Some folk like to eat before drinking. Once I’m full, particularly with custard and chicken mandi, I can’t face beer.
Especially the beer choice at the Albert Hall,
where I enjoyed Waxahatchee’s classic American along with a crowd comprised entirely of 25 and 60 year old music fans.
I’ve no idea which group I fit into.
retiredmartin 
“To lose the Dutton AND the Jolly Angler seems unfortunate, to say the least”.
Yes, and the Ducie Arms as a Boddingtons Brewery tap ( the other being the Royal Oak ) although there’s been a bit of confusion on that Discourse as it’s another Ducie Arms that Caroline of Kendal knew. And of course the wonderful Coach and Horses opposite Piccadilly railway station, sacrificed for the trams.
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Before it was gentrified as the hipsterish Green Quarter, the area between the bottom of Cheetham Hill Road and the River Irk was a slum housing impoverished Jewish refugees who had fled from Tsarist persecution in Eastern Europe, called Red Bank. I always smile when I hear the jazz pianist Count Basie referred to by his nickname The Kid from Red Bank, his home town in New Jersey (not sure if he ever made it to Manchester).
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